


The Temple And The Altar

by Omorka



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: F/M, Het, Occult, Ritual, Sacred Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Beltane, and Janine's the only girl Ray knows well enough to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Temple And The Altar

**Author's Note:**

> The version of the Drawing Down and Great Rite used here is adapted and drastically shortened from the versions published by Janet and Stewart Farrar.

The four guys piled out of Ecto-1, covered in fresh ectoplasm in shades Janine might have called festive if she were in a better mood. For once, Peter hadn't gotten the worst of it; he was splattered with neon pink goo across the chest and coated from the knees down, but Ray and Egon were both absolutely drenched, Ray in a vivid blue and Egon in a green brighter than olive but too dark to be Slimer's. Winston had taken a headswipe from the same gooper that had gotten Peter, it looked like, and droplets of blue dotted his arms and left side.

Egon stood up and then nearly fell over again. Peter yelped and almost leaped over Ecto to catch him; Ray beat him there, propping the taller Ghostbuster up with a squish.

"Easy there, Egon," Ray said, shifting the physicist's arm across his shoulders. "You're still under the influence."

"I'm fine, Ray," protested Egon, his slime-covered boots slipping on the concrete floor. "It wore off when we trapped them."

Peter slipped under Egon's other arm and unsubtly shifted his weight off of Ray. "Even if that's true, we need to get this stuff off of you." He started easing the two of them towards the stairs.

"What happened?" Janine asked, curious despite herself.

"The Class Fives we were after drank every bottle of liquor in the restaurant bar before we got there," Winston filled her in.

"And unlike Slimer, they can hold their liquor," Peter added with a smirk from halfway up the stairs.

Winston blinked; he'd heard the story of how their introduction to Slimer had involved him guzzling a bottle of wine that had fallen straight through his gullet, back when the other three had first captured him, but he hadn't been there. "Anyway, their slime had some soporific effects, we're guessing from the alcohol."

Janine sniffed. Now that they were closer, she did smell a whiff of liquor on them. "You'd think you'd reek of it, though."

"We did, when they first hit us," Ray explained. "But it evaporated pretty quickly. Egon and I were kind of loopy for a while, though. Egon nearly fell asleep standing up. I just kept bumping into things." The engineer removed three blinking traps from the back of Ecto.

Winston took them from him. "I'll take care of these. You go up and make Peter let you have the second shower; otherwise he'll take one after Egon, despite not needing it as bad."

"I was assuming they'd just shower togeth-" Ray started, and then broke off, looking guiltily in Janine's direction. She stared pointedly at her computer screen, stabbing at the page-down key with one fingernail, as his ears turned red and he looked away.

Winston muttered "Catch you in a minute," and fled downstairs.

When Peter and Egon had started their affair, Janine had figured it out almost immediately. To his credit, Egon had only taken three days to get up the courage to tell her; Peter would have left her in the dark until she said something, if it had been up to him. She was really more angry at him than at Egon. Being confused about your sexual identity wasn't something she could really blame someone for. Well, she _could_, but she knew it wasn't reasonable.

She sighed, and lowered her temples to her hands. No, she couldn't really be that angry at Dr. V, either. Apparently he'd been lusting after Egon in secret since their college days. It wasn't fair of the universe that she could express her crush openly and he couldn't without ridicule, or worse. He couldn't be blamed for keeping secrets. It was just the almost-lying to her that she was really mad about. The rest - well, she was sad, of course. A fantasy dying was always tragic. But that was all it had ever been.

Egon had told her he loved her like the sister he'd never had. She believed him. And that would have to be enough.

Ray was shuffling around nervously in front of her desk. She suspected this was hard on him, too. His two best buddies were suddenly a lot more than that to each other; he had to be feeling a little bit excluded, even if he was happy for them. She looked up into his round face, still ruddy.

"Um. Janine, I, uh - you know what day it is, right?"

"It's April 30." She didn't have to check the calendar; she kept months at a time in her head. She picked up a pencil and twirled it idly, wondering what he was getting at.

"Yeah. It's Beltane Eve." Ray rubbed a hand across the lower half of his face nervously. "I, uh, I was wondering if you could see your way clear to helping me out this evening?"

"Helping you out with what?" She vaguely remembered something he'd said about Beltane, about it being a fertility festival. He'd always been interested in magic and ritual, much more so than either of the other two paranormologists, but after his run-in with out-of-control spellwork in his hometown, he'd taken a much greater interest in learning it for himself. Maybe he felt like he needed to be able to protect the others from it. As he picked up the magic part, he also had been taking a greater interest in the general ritual aspects. Well, he'd been taunted with words like "pagan" and "warlock" as a kid, he'd mentioned a couple of times; might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, right?

He fidgeted, twisting the fingers of one hand in the palm of the other. "Well, Beltane is a fertility festival."

"I think you told me that part already." Had she ever seen him so nervous? What was going on that would make him that fidgety?

"Yeah. Well, it's, um, the traditional rites - it's about human fertility, too, not just the fields, and I don't have a real field here anyway." He bit his lower lip. "Anyway, I was hoping - it's traditional to make love in the ritual circle on Beltane Eve, and I really don't know any other women I can even ask."

Blood rushed to her face. She stood up abruptly. "Oh, yeah? Is that all I am to any of you - just a woman, with no face of my own?" The pencil in her left hand snapped.

Ray went white as a sheet under the coating of blue ectoplasm. "Oh, gods, no, Janine, that's not what I meant at all! I'm sorry!" He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender; his uniform made a ridiculous squelching noise.

Somehow, the silly slime noises broke through her anger a bit. "Then explain yourself, buster."

He shook his head. "Janine, you're beautiful and wonderful and none of us value you enough. I just - no one else that I could think of would even understand the request. I'm sorry. I should have thought before I spoke." He turned away, his shoulders sagging as he headed towards the stairs.

"Wait." She picked up the two halves of the pencil. "I didn't say no yet. What exactly would you want me to do?"

Ray paused with one hand on the bannister. "Uh, just meet me in the downstairs workshop at eight and, uh, um, have sex with me." His cheeks flamed again. "I mean, if you want. I didn't mean to pressure you at all, and I know this is sort of sudden."

She sat down and peeled off a long strip of tape from the dispenser on her desk. "I'll think about it." She sighed as she started taping the pencil back together. "But you're gonna owe me dinner, either way."

"Sounds fine to me." He scampered up the stairs, wiping slime from his hair.

Janine glanced at the basement stairs. "You can come on up; I'm not going to throw things."

Winston sheepishly climbed the last few steps into view. "Sorry. I just didn't want to interrupt."

"Yeah, I know." She rolled the repaired pencil between her palms to straighten it. "You ever regret signing on with these guys?"

"I question my sanity every damn day I wake up in this place," Winston answered, "but regret it? Naw. I think we do too much good to ever feel bad about the choice to do it." He glanced up the stairs. "They may be crazy geniuses, but they're our crazy geniuses, you know?"

"I guess that's one way to think about it." She dropped the tape-wrapped pencil back into the cup on her desk. "You heard what Ray wanted?"

"Yeah." He shook his head. "I told him it was way too soon, but -"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah, it is. But, you know, too soon might last for years at this rate."

He walked over to her desk and set one hand tentatively on her shoulder. "It might. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't take your time." Winston gave her a tiny squeeze and then headed for the stairs. "You take care of yourself, however's best for you, and don't worry what we think about it, okay?"

"Okay," she answered, and watched him disappear onto the second floor. Her eyes drifted to her hands as she contemplated what she wanted.

\---

She stepped into the workshop and stopped short. Normally, it was a very mechanical-looking space - it was where the lathe and all the metal-working gear were stored and used. The only reminders of its other use were the bookshelves along the eastern wall and the shelf full of jars of herbs, bowls, and other knickknacks that Ray stored there.

The tables had been turned. All of the metalworking equipment had been carefully packed against the north wall and covered with a green tarp, neatly tucked in at the corners. The rest of the room flickered with warm candlelight. A small vase of flowers stood in each corner of the room, their warm green perfume mixing with the incense from the burner on the bookshelf. She thought she could identify sandalwood, patchouli, jasmine, and labdanum; it was a heavy, heady scent.

The floor had been cleared and covered with a heavy exercise mat, and then a blanket spread over that. A circle had been chalked around it and marked with the twelve Zodiac signs, alchemical symbols for the four elements, a complex sigil that Janine was pretty sure represented Ray, and another one across from it that she guessed represented herself. Four more candles in tall glass jars sat unlit at the four stations of the circle - at Cancer, Libra, Capricorn, and Aries, she noted. A bowl of water sat just outside the circle, next to a knife in a black sheath.

The blanket had been decorated with four large pillows and a handful of pink rose petals. Ray stood by the bookshelf, holding one final pair of candles, one black, one white. He was wearing his robe, a heavy weave of black cotton tied at the waist with a loop of red cord, and barefoot.

He smiled, hesitantly. "I - thank you, Janine. I wasn't sure - I mean, you didn't have to come, after I -" He stopped himself. "I was really clumsy, earlier. I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No, it's okay. I mean, yeah, that was awkward. But if I hadn't had my head up my ass, I would have understood what you meant." She reached down and took off her shoes. "I'm still hurt about - well, about Egon and Peter. Mostly Egon. But I was letting that rejection color what I was hearing you say." She set them aside and began removing her earrings, bright blue dangles dancing wildly. "I knew deep down that you wouldn't ever say anything you knew would hurt my feelings, and I know for sure you're not a one-night-stand kind of guy."

Ray looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. "Um, what do you mean by that last part?"

She met his gaze across the room, a curl of incense smoke drifting between them and fading. "You're not asking me for this because I'm a girl and you need one. You're asking me for this because you've wanted me for a long time, and you've never felt you could ask before."

"It was both." His eyes dropped to the two candles in his hands. "How long have you known?"

"I'm not sure. I really only let myself think about it after you asked." She set the earrings on one of the workbenches he'd pushed out of the way and started unhooking her necklace.

"Actually, can you leave that on? The beads are lapis, right?" He smiled, gently. "That's appropriate for the Goddess." "Ray, I'm - " she started, but he held out a hand. "Or her earthly representative, which is what you are for me tonight."

"This really is a ritual, then," she mused. "Not just an excuse to ask me to sleep with you?"

"It's really a ritual," he nodded. "Is that okay? I don't want to ask you do do something you're not comfortable with."

She shook her head. "No, it's fine." She looked at her bare feet, her bright red nail polish dark against the concrete floor. "What if I want to sleep with you after this?"

"You mean, just for the sake of having sex?" She had forgotten how blunt Ray could be sometimes, when he wasn't nervous. His smile grew wider, as did his eyes. "Gosh, Janine, I'd love to! I didn't think you'd be interested, though."

She read what he didn't say. "I can find other people attractive enough to want to bed them and still be completely hung up on Egon."

"That's fine," he said, still smiling at her as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life. "I mean, I'm sort of still hung up on everyone myself." He set the two candles down next to the bowl and blade. "But I love you, Janine. I have for years. And if you would be the Goddess for me tonight, I would be deeply honored."

She swallowed. "What do I need to do? Besides getting the rest of the way naked, I mean."

"That would be a good start." Ray's grin turned mischievous, and he turned to fuss with the candles on the bookshelf. She silently unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it, followed by her tank top, and folded them together. Ray watched her unhook her bra out of the corner of one eye, she was sure, but she didn't quite catch him at it. She slid her panties down her legs - dammit, there was no way to do that gracefully, was there? - and stepped out of them. The cool air from the rest of the basement ran up her legs, and she shivered just a bit.

Ray flicked off the light switch, undid the knot at his waist, and looped the red cord around his arm. He wasn't wearing anything under the robe, she noticed. He slid the heavy black garment off and hung it on a hook behind him, utterly unconcerned with modesty. She noticed with a flicker of surprise that he wasn't circumcised. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen a real live foreskin before. At least, not on someone older than eight days old.

He paced around the outside of the circle and embraced her. His skin was warm, and he smelled faintly of incense smoke. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair.

"No problem," she whispered back. "Now what do I do?"

"Now you let me worship you," he said in a tone more reverent than she'd ever heard from him, as he led her into the center of the circle and set the cord down beside her.

She stood, a little chilly still, as he paced slowly around the circle again, murmuring something she couldn't hear at each of the four candles and lighting them. He set the lighter down next to the red candle and turned back to her, his eyes shining with a dozen reflected flames. She wondered whether she was supposed to sit down, or lie down, or stand; he dropped to his knees and bowed to her. She started to back up a step, then stopped herself.

He steadied her with one hand on her ankle, then leaned forward just a bit farther and kissed each foot, left one first. "Blessed be your feet, that have brought you to this circle," he said, his voice slightly muffled.

She blinked. Was there a _broche_ for feet? She couldn't remember.

His hand slid up to her calf, and he kissed her just above the kneecaps. "Blessed be your knees, that will sit before the sacred altar." Okay, she was pretty sure her rabbi growing up didn't have a blessing for knees. On the other hand, any blessing that involved kissing was going to be a little different, wasn't it?

Oh, my. The next kiss was just above her mons; he hesitated just a fraction of a second, and she felt his breath on her skin before his lips, soft and thick. "Blessed be your womb, without which we would not be."

He pushed himself to his feet; she offered one hand, but he smiled and didn't take it. The next two kisses were on the upper slopes, so to speak, of both breasts; she felt her nipples harden. "Blessed be your breasts, formed in beauty." She was starting to like this tradition.

Ray was standing again now, right in front of her, and still smiling. He put his hands on her shoulders, so gently, and kissed her softly on the lips. No demands, just the soft pressure of his mouth on hers. As he pulled back, he murmured "Blessed be your lips, that shall speak what is sacred."

She smiled back at him. Normally, she'd doubt her ability to say anything particularly holy, but after all that - well, she wasn't sure she felt like a goddess, but she felt _something_.

Ray stepped back, and picked something up from the ground, a tiny bottle. He removed the cork and turned it up quickly against his left forefinger, then re-corked it and set it back down. He knelt again, and traced a triangle on her belly with what smelled and felt like rose-scented oil. His voice rose up, almost a chant: "I invoke you, Great Mother of all things, bringer of all fruitfulness; by seed and root, by bud and stem," and his voice grew stronger as he went, "by leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love I do call upon you, in the body of your daughter most dear to me."

Something swelled in her heart and buzzed in her ears; the room was warm, now, with the heat of the candles. She met Ray's eyes, and wondered what he saw in hers now, as his features settled into pure adoration.

"Will you assist me to erect the ancient altar?" he murmured, his hands finding hers, clasping gently. His palms were sweating. Somehow, that made her feel more secure; even if he wasn't showing it, he was still a little nervous. She didn't want to be the only one.

"Looks like you're erect enough already," she said before thinking about it. Immediately, she flushed with embarrassment, wishing she could snatch the words back.

Ray laughed, and squeezed her hands again. "Not me. You. C'mere." He pulled her close again, and held her, a full body hug. She slid her arms around him, feeling the muscles in his back move under their padding. His fingers worked at her shoulders. It was easy to forget how strong he was; he looked so soft, but underneath there was steel.

He eased her down onto the blanket and tugged the pillows over. "Here. I know this isn't exactly the most comfortable - "

"It's fine." She plumped the biggest pillow and settled onto it, then turned back to him. Raising one hand to his face, she traced his jawline; he leaned into her touch and made a soft, contented noise. Something vibrated in her at the sound, some tiny delight that so small a gesture from her could make someone so happy.

She stroked under his chin and teased him towards her. Her lips parted, inviting; he slid forward the last few inches and kissed her again, soft and slow. Her hands traced his ears, his throat, his shoulders, urging him closer until they were pressed together again, side by side.

Gently, almost tentatively, one of his hands wandered over the curve of her hip, along the valley of her waist, and finally to the gentle swell of her breast. She moaned appreciatively and wriggled, and the other hand joined its brother, stroking, kneading, caressing. The pads of his thumbs, rough from tools and proton sparks, found her nipples and rolled over them carefully; she arched her back and gasped her pleasure.

One hand was replaced by his lips, rolling the hard little pebble between them. Ray always had an oral fixation, didn't he? His free hand slid down her belly, rolling over her mons and rubbing her vulva gently, She reached downward too, her nails trailing through the auburn thatch below his waistline.

"Ah, not yet." He pushed himself back up on his arms, eyes glittering. "You get to dance around the Maypole later." He kissed her just above the navel, his lips warm and promising. "If you want, that is." His mouth touched again just below it. "But for right now, just let me praise you." Another kiss, just above her own curls of deep red.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" she cracked, then gasped as his tongue trailed between her labia and found the sensitive spot just above her clitoris. She felt, more than heard, him chuckle deep in his throat as he coaxed her legs wider and settled in between them.

Warm, so warm, god, it had been forever since anyone had gone down on her. Her hands scratched for purchase and ended up clinging to the blanket beneath her as she dug in her heels and held on. His tongue played over her, firmly and softly in turns. Something stirred in her loins, like a coal gone nearly to ashes suddenly fed dry kindling; it flashed, and went up fast -

And she was crying out, almost screaming, as her body quivered and throbbed. She heard, somewhere out there, Ray's voice whispering, "Oh, goddess, _yes_," and he slowed but didn't stop. Her own heartbeat rang in her ears like a bell.

She felt him slide one finger between her labia, requesting entrance. She bore down on him, hips beckoning, and he eased into her. His fingertip traced little circles, hunting. "Up a bit," she urged him between pants, and he obeyed, his mouth still working on her slowly and steadily. She crooned when he found the spot he was searching for, and he hummed back at her happily. He shifted between her legs; she could feel the muscles in his other arm as it curled around her thigh, could feel the subtle tension in his whole body as he sought out what pleasured her.

The soft buzzing sensation returned, somewhere just below her ribcage, as the ripples of heat from her first orgasm echoed back and began to build again. She felt him slide in a second finger, sweet pressure moving inside her and urging her deeper. Her eyes closed, her hips rolled, her body shook with anticipation. Was she crying? Something wet spilled down one cheek. His tongue flicked across her as his fingers curled just so, and the kindling flared into a blaze, a bonfire dancing in her belly. She wailed in joy, writhing under his grip, half-unconsciously feeling his heart beat faster.

She opened her eyes; the flickering candlelight seemed strangely bright. Her hands found purchase on the blanket and she pushed herself up. "Ray, please, I need - I want you in me."

"Are you sure?" He looked up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

"Yes, I'm sure, I'm ready, _please_." She leaned back and gestured at him.

His lips curved mysteriously, and he snuggled next to her and rolled onto his back. Oh. Well, she supposed it was easier to worship looking up than it was looking down. Or was that just the mountain symbolism working on her?

She pushed herself up to her knees and straddled him. His eyes shone like stars in the strange light, somehow both dim and bright at once. As she eased herself over him, he began chanting again, singing to her and to something bigger than her at once: "Open for me the secret way, beyond the gates of night and day." His erection brushed against her wetness as she settled her legs next to his hips; he reached upward, fondling her breasts as she lowered herself down. "Behold the mystery aright - " She slipped around him, a sweet, hot embrace; his body went rigid for a second, and he sighed. "Here where Lance and Grail unite," he finished, gazing up at her adoringly.

She rocked her hips against him slowly, leaning forward so her clitoris brushed against the gentle swell of his flesh. Something bubbled up her spine, buzzed in her belly, tickled at her heart, swirled at her throat and formed into words: "Beloved, be loved." She wasn't sure what they meant, or whether it had been her that said them, but she liked them. The sensation continued, warm and cool and luscious, as if someone were embracing her from the inside. Well, someone was, wasn't he.

Ray laid his hands at her hips and moved with her, rising to meet her thrusts, rolling his hips against hers. His eyes were half-lidded, his breathing slow and heavy. She shifted her weight and bore down, squeezing and letting go; his breath hitched and he moaned, biting down lightly on his lower lip. She felt him tense and relax again between her thighs, and she picked up her pace, riding him a little harder. His breath quickened, as did his thrusts.

She rocked back and bore down again, long, even strokes against him. The fire in her vulva threw off a few intense sparks, and she let herself moan in time with him, their voices building in a rhythmic, wordless incantation. She leaned forward, hands at his shoulders, her belly pressed to his, her breasts brushing his chest on each stroke, friction striking heat, breathing in time, and the fire turned into the ocean, waves crashing over her head.

It didn't stop. Each wave shook her to the core, turned her inside out, washed her clean. Her voice quavered on a note she didn't think she could hit, perfectly harmonized with Ray's as he throbbed within her. She somehow looked at him with her eyes still closed, heard him with her skin. God, he was beautiful.

"Oh, my goddess," he breathed in her ear as she sank down onto his chest, sated.

"Only for you," she whispered back. Then she grinned against his shoulder. "I gotta say, I think I like being worshipped."

He beamed at her. "You know, there are eight festivals in the Germano-Celtic calendar." Her looked up into the air above his head, thinking. "And twelve or thirteen full moons, depending on the year, and twelve or thirteen new moons, and - "

Janine laughed and swatted at the shoulder she wasn't leaning on. "You don't have to explain the lunar calendar to me, Ray. And like you really need an excuse?"

"No, of course not. I - " He paused, his head cocked. Then he burst out laughing, hugging her harder.

"What - " she started, then he shushed himself, and she heard it. Two voices on the other side of the wall, not quite in the same place they'd just been, but close enough.

"Peter and Egon?" she guessed, not that there were many other options.

"They must have come down to check the containment unit and heard us." Ray giggled again. "I can't blame them, can you? We must have been - inspirational."

She let herself imagine, in detail, what was going on. Peter's voice was muffled and wordless; only one thing could make him shut up like that - and Egon was groaning like a dam about to burst.

Her vulva throbbed.

Sure, she was still sad about it, but the thought of Egon pressed up against the containment unit, Peter on his knees in front of him, was mostly turning her on.

"I think I'm cured," she murmured.

"Huh?" Ray's eyes were blank for a second, until she kissed him again. He shrugged, and savored it.

Her features settled into a beatific look. "If I get to be divine tonight," she murmured, "I think I feel another blessing coming on."

"Give me a few minutes," Ray smirked, his hand sliding to her mound again.


End file.
